Underneath This Broken Mask
by Paperclip-Assassin
Summary: In the course of one week Dean learns that love doesn't want to be understood, it wants to be accepted. - Destiel multi-chap.
1. Chapter 1: Thursday

This fic was inspired by the song "A single man tear" from the 200th episode and a piece of fanart that I intended to put as cover image but that won't load, sorry for that inconvenience. The story-line stretches over about a week and so far every chapter describes the events of one day but I probably won't keep that up until Day 7 so I'm guessing this'll be around five chapters total? I'll post chapters 2, 3 and maybe even 4 over the weekend, so stay tuned.

**Spoilers** for all things season 10 but ignoring the mid-season finale teaser trailer.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Supernatural, like, at all.

**Warning**: swearing

**Feedback**: much appreciated!

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**Underneath This Broken Mask**

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><p>Dean stood in the doorway with his arms crossed, death-glare directed at the pair of suitcases standing by his brother's feet as if they had spread a nasty rumour about him on national television. He didn't believe Sam's weak-ass excuse- that there was an easy hunt across the country that he could take on alone- for even a second. He knew what this was. This was Sam escaping his moods and all the crap that was happening since the Purification. This was Sam running away from Dean pretending like the past months didn't happen and all was good and they were still just chasing their monsters of the week.<p>

Savin' people.

Hunting things.

Yeah, no. He got it, actually. And God knew he wanted to run too but that shit wasn't gonna happen because that's the whole point. The core of their problem was Dean's knee-jerk reaction to run away from every fucking thing that made him uncomfortable and at the moment that thing was that he had no idea when the mark on his arm would wake and unleash its wrath anew. He just knew that whenever it happened, he wouldn't want Sam there again. Which, in turn, meant Sam did everything in his power to be there, shooting concerned glances, talking about feelings and being so freakishly forgiving for things that should never be forgiven anyone that Dean was about ready to barf rainbow-kittens from all the brotherly love floating in the bunker.

Needless to say, none of Sam's efforts to make Dean feel better had the desired effect and with every act of kindness another brick joined its companions in the wall that was Dean Winchester's self-loathing. He was a failure in the eyes of Heaven, Hell and Earth alike and messed up every chance he got to be a better man by making an irrational decision in a Kamikaze attempt to save a world that was, in the end, not worth saving.

"Dean, you know I don't want to do this," Sam said, breaking Dean's concentration and focus on the suitcases. And really, what kind of amateur hunter used those inconvenient pieces of shit instead of duffel bags? When exactly had Sam gone back to being a rookie?

Dean huffed with dismay and frowned at his moose of a brother across the room. "Sure you don't. I get it. Your services are needed."

Sam stared back, unfazed. "I think it might be good for you to really take a break from everything. That itch you get? The one that has you all antsy and ready to hit the road? As long as we can't be sure that that isn't coming from the mark…"

"Oh, suck it up, Sammy, will ya?" Dean summoned all the restraint he could to not punch the wall he was leaning against. "Just because the friggin' mark is the easiest explanation don't mean it's not crap and you know it."

His brother's guilty look at the ceiling told him that he was right, which wasn't that surprising. When Sam met his eyes again they were full of determination nonetheless. "Like I said, we can't be sure," he said coldly. "And I can't have you hunting if there's even the tiniest chance of you hitting me with a hammer the moment I turn to-"

"That was totally uncalled for." Dean's heart thrummed in his ears as he interrupted. He was aware that Sam was doing this on purpose, winding him up so he would storm off in anger or something, and he tried hard not to be affected. So far it was working but he was dangerously close to his breaking point, especially with his brother throwing out his accusations like flyers for summer sale.

Sam's hands lifted in a gesture of defence, palms facing Dean. "I know. I'm sorry- that was- I'm just trying to help, Dean. And I know this isn't the best way to do it but at the moment I can't think of a better one, so…" Dean was well aware that he had long lost the fight and was just buying time now but he had always been a stubborn sonofabitch. This was no exception. However, before he could come up with a snarky remark or half-assed attempt at an insult he didn't mean, Sam heaved a sigh, checking his phone. "Listen, there's one more thing."

Dean let his hands fall to his side. "Great, Sam. What is it? Are you planning to chain me up in a damn Devil's Trap until you're back, just to be sure I stay here like a good boy?" Now that was just as uncalled for as Sam's comment had been but Dean didn't care.

"Actually, I was hoping we moved past that stage," another voice said and Dean jumped because it came from behind Sam and he hadn't heard anyone enter the room. A moment later Castiel stepped into view.

"Cas?" The incredulity in his voice was close to insulting but Cas' eyes stayed benevolent, blue as ever and heavy with the bags below them. Dude looked like he hadn't slept in ages. For a moment Dean was tempted to crack a smile, after all Cas wasn't the one he was angry at, but then it dawned on him that he probably wasn't just there at the bunker for the mere pleasure of catching up. "I don't need a damn babysitter, Sam!"

"Not everything's about you, you know. Maybe you wanna ask what went down before you jump to conclusions. I'm leaving." For a moment Sam hesitated as Dean sent a look in Cas' direction that was to equal parts confused and apologetic and then he dived forward for an awkward moose hug. Dean reluctantly accepted it, patting his brother on the back before pulling away, understanding his actions even while he didn't like them.

"Take care and gank the bastard, y'hear?"

Sam nodded, evidently relived that they wouldn't part in a fight. "Sure. I'll call when I get to a motel." With that he gathered his stupid-ass luggage that was probably more nerdy tech stuff than anything else and strolled off toward the bunker's exit, stopping just before he stepped out of sight to send one last stern look back at Dean. "No hunting for you while I'm gone."

Dean rolled his eyes and crossed his heart mockingly in a promise but his brother didn't see the action as he waved goodbye to the angel in the room and disappeared out the door. Dean sighed, dragging a hand over his face and feeling ridiculously like a grounded teenager, before he looked at Cas. "Okay, Mary Poppins," he said, "Might as well make the best of this. Coffee?"

Castiel frowned. "Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious."

In response, the hunter's eyebrows lifted up at least half-way to the ceiling. "Excuse me? Did you just seriously get that reference?"

"The name just triggered something. I understand a lot of things related to human pop-culture now, but most of the time it's just a blur of phrases and images that don't make much more sense than before."

"Huh." Dean shrugged. "Never mind, then. C'mon." He turned and motioned for Castiel to follow him into the bunker kitchen because even if the angel had neither agreed nor disagreed in question to the coffee, the hunter definitely needed some caffeine. While he rummaged through the kitchen for a cup and everything else he needed, Cas just stood awkwardly in the doorway, hands flexing by his sides. As the coffee began to brew, Dean took a moment to look a little more closely at his friend. He already looked more rumpled than the last time they'd seen each other and the corners of his mouth were pulled down as if a constant weight was attached to them. It tugged at a part of Dean's heart he usually pretended wasn't there.

"You been sleepin' enough?" he asked casually, leaning back against the kitchen counter. Cas laughed but it was without humour and sounded more pained than anything else.

"No. Not at all. You?"

"Yeah, me neither," he admitted gruffly, thankful for the distraction of the finished coffee. "You want one too?" If it were Sam he wouldn't ask twice, wouldn't try so badly to ease the awkwardness that was so tangibly lingering between them. Cas wasn't as trusting of him either, much like his brother. To them Dean was a ticking time bomb as long as the Mark of Cain still stuck to him.

"Yes, please," Cas said with a nod, giving Dean another excuse to look away, in search for a second cup. As he filled both ceramic containers with steaming liquid he thought hard about what Sam had said about 'asking what went down', he also noticed that Hannah wasn't with Cas, so maybe that had something to do with it. Instead he asked if Cas wanted milk in his coffee. When the angel shook his head, Dean took both cups and sent Cas walking ahead with a nod into the study room's direction which was where the most chairs were situated.

Once seated he pushed one cup towards his friend before settling with his own. "So," he started, "What's new?"

Cas grimaced and reached for the cup, licking his lips but not drinking the coffee. "Hannah has returned to Heaven," he said finally, intensely gazing at the hardwood table before adding that she had left her vessel downstairs. Dean didn't know what to say to that, so he stayed silent, waiting for the angel to elaborate on his feelings and whatnot. When Cas remained quiet too he thought for a brief moment that this was already the end of story time but just as he was about to change the subject, Cas spoke again. "It overwhelmed her. The realisation that she had stolen someone's life by taking over a vessel." Castiel cracked a sad half-smile before looking from the wooden table up at Dean. "It was a very human reaction."

The hunter nodded, unsure. "I guess." There was another pause as he watched the angel across from him finally take a sip, tracing a stray drop of coffee with his tongue afterwards in a thoughtless motion that Dean tried hard to not find distracting. "How're you holding up?" he asked with genuine concern.

"I'm going to miss her," Cas admitted with a nod. "She has grown to be a… friend."

"I'll take your word on that, Cas. Last time I checked she wanted you to stab me."

"Dean," the angel chastised sternly. "She was trying to protect the others, which I have repeatedly failed to do. I'm not asking you to understand that but you should at least respect the companionship I share with her." Cas waited until Dean acknowledged the request with a court nod before he continued. "Anyway. It's not only that I'll miss her company, her departure has also reminded me of my taking over Jimmy Novak."

"What d'you mean?" Dean asked between sips of coffee.

"I _mean_," Cas said with a tinge of annoyance, "that I had no right to interfere in his life the way I did, even if I thought I was doing it with divine tenacity. And unlike Hannah I can't return him to his family, to the people who loved him and whom he loved. This vessel," he motioned vaguely down his torso, "has long since stopped being just that. It's my body now, there's no host to give it back to. I just wish I could go and see them and apologize for my actions."

"Wait, _them_? As in _the Novaks_?" Dean was thankful for the fact that his mouth was empty, or he would have ended up doing a spit-take.

"Yes. I have used the internet to find their current whereabouts. They no longer live in Illinois."

Dean realized with a pang that Cas was seriously considering a visit. "Dude," he said carefully. "Even if you manage to get an address or something, what are you gonna do? Just turn up at their doorstep, like 'Heya, remember me? The angel of the friggin' Lord that took your husband away and possessed your daughter for a wee while?' I'm sure they're gonna love that." Cas swallowed, a pained look on his face, but said nothing. So Dean continued. "Listen. I get it. You wanna do something right, but this ain't the way, Cas. They know what went down. Pretty sure they've accepted it too. They probably started a new life away from all the freaky angel shit, you turning up out of the blue… that's not gonna help anyone."

"I suppose you're right," Cas admitted quietly, voice breaking slightly and gaze hollow until he regained his composure. "As you said, I just want to the right thing."

And damn, Dean understood why the angel looked so heartbreakingly devastated. If anyone understood how crappy '_doing something right'_ could feel, it was the hunter himself. After all he could practically co-author a pamphlet on how _not_ to do it. That's part of the reason why his next words made him feel like the biggest hypocrite since vegan bacon. "Just promise me you won't do anything stupid, alright?"

"Yes, Dean," Cas said. There was a short pause before he got up, tapping the table absentmindedly. "Is there anywhere I can sleep? The drive has been exhausting."

For half a second Dean was confused, not used to Cas having human needs like that but he quickly blinked that confusion away and got up as well. "Sure, grab your stuff and meet me at my room, I'll just take care of these first." He grabbed the two cups, in various states of emptiness, and disappeared back into the kitchen without looking at the angel he left behind.

Roughly seven minutes later he found Cas leaning against the wall next to his room and for a moment some abstruse part of his consciousness was tempted to invite him inside, tuck him in on his bed and pull up a chair to make sure the guy got some rest but something about the thought of Castiel in his bed triggered a feeling that Dean was masterful at dismissing, so he quickly walked past the temptation and waved for Cas to follow him down the hall. A couple of doors down he stopped, letting it swing open. The room was barely furnished, there was a desk in the corner, a couple of books were messily stacked on a shelf and the bed dominated the centre with an air of not having been slept in for fifty years about it.

"Mi casa es su casa," Dean mumbled as Cas pushed past him and into the room, dropping his duffel bag (_Damn it, Sam, even Cas knows better than you_) on the bed and immediately losing the tan overcoat. He hung it over the back of a chair, patting it almost lovingly as if wishing it a good rest as well. Dean's heart clenched at the sight of the angel in just his slacks and white shirt, top buttons undone- secretly Dean had always meant for this to be Castiel's room, and now that he was actually there it woke a feeling in his chest that he wasn't entirely willing to acknowledge.

"Thank you, Dean," Cas said as he unbuttoned his shirt at the wrists in order to roll the sleeves up to his elbows, revealing his tanned forearms. Dean allowed himself to trace the skin with his eyes, following the line of the angel's arms up to his broad shoulders, before snapping out of it in the hope that it hadn't been noticed.

"Well then," he said, awkwardly clearing his suddenly weirdly dry throat, "Feel free to use the shower or grab stuff from the fridge. If you need anything, you know where to find me."

Cas offered a tiny smile, which was really just a twitch at the corner of his mouth. "I appreciate it, but I really am just looking for a few hours of rest. Goodnight."

Dean knocked on the wall in a nervous gesture and nodded. "Night, Cas. See ya in the morning." With that he turned- somewhat reluctantly so as he realized Cas was about to undo his belt. But since it was none of the hunter's business in what state of undress Cas slept, he hurried to close the door behind himself. Damn angel could sleep butt naked for all he cared. (_Goddamnit, brain! No need for the technicolour visuals on that one. Jesus._)

A quick glance at one of the many clocks in the bunker told him that it was barely past eight, so there was little hope for him to find rest so soon as well. That settled, the hunter strolled into the main study, sure that there was a bottle of Whiskey with his name on it somewhere in the liquor cabinet there.

…


	2. Chapter 2: Friday

The next morning Dean awoke to the familiar throbbing that usually announced a good hangover. By now he was almost used to the dull ache in his head and once more he was glad that he never got nauseous- something he really shouldn't be proud of but what the hell at least he appreciated the small things in life. He slowly moved from where he sat slouched against a wall and okay, _whoa_, the world was definitely not supposed to spin quite like it did. He heard rather than felt a few joints crack at the effort of heaving his weight into a more or less standing position and winced. Boy was he getting old. He yawned and rubbed his eyes lazily before glancing at his wrist watch. Eight twenty. So he'd gotten just over four hours of alcohol induced coma- _nice_.

In the kitchen he almost jumped at the sight of another person that wasn't a foot taller than him, having temporarily forgotten about Cas' presence in the bunker. He cleared his throat to announce himself and walked over to the fridge, grabbing the container of orange juice from its place and drinking from it without bothering to find a glass first. It was his damn home, he could do whatever he wanted. Except leave.

Cas had turned and watched him curiously, coffee in hand. He looked somewhat refreshed, hair still slightly damp from a shower or something and dress shirt untucked. Dean blamed the alcohol still poisoning his system for checking out the tanned chest visible through the V-shape that was the result of one too many buttons undone. "Good morning," Cas said.

"Hmph," Dean grumbled eloquently, eyes snapping up from tanned skin to meet blue eyes.

"Long night?" God, why did the bastard insist on a conversation before Dean had his first coffee?! It was fine on any other day but after a night of drinking the hunter was definitely not Chatty Cathy, damnit. At least Cas seemed to finally get the hint and poured Dean a cup of the caffeinated juice of life. Dean even managed to croak out a 'thank you'. He drowned his cup in record time, already pouring himself another while Cas still watched him intently, casually sipping every once in a while.

"Take a picture, why don't you." Dean didn't exactly mean to be so grumpy and the coffee was slowly working its magic but Cas' stare was just plain creepy. It felt like he was analysing the essence of the hunter's most intimate thoughts and even though he knew Cas had long lost his mind reading mojo, it was still offsetting enough that the guy just _knew_ Dean inside and out.

"You have taken to drinking more frequently again." Dean's first reaction to what was likely an educated guess was to snap at the angel, telling him that he would know if he were around more. That, of course, was unfair because Dean knew exactly that Cas had his own problems to face and didn't exist just when he needed him.

"Yeah," he admitted grimly, swallowing down his anger and pride. "I have. It started with the whole, uh, demon… thing. Lotta chicks, lotta booze." What he left unsaid was that at least inebriation kept the dreams at bay, memories of what he'd done. What he'd _enjoyed_ doing. It was Hell all over again. Of course he didn't necessarily need to phrase all these things for Castiel to understand. He'd seen his way of dealing with situations via alcohol.

"Don't let it ruin you, Dean," Cas said softly, understandingly, and Dean wasn't entirely sure if he was referring to the drinking or his regrets or both. Either way he chuckled because yeah sure, it wasn't like he was ruined already. "I mean it, Dean," Cas pressed on, eyes burning holes into the side of his face like blue fire.

"I appreciate your concern, buddy," Dean said, not because it was what he believed, but because he was hoping for Cas to just drop it already. This was what he had feared would happen with Cas staying while Sam was gone. Every single one of his actions and choices was being judged und Dean was freaking sick of it already because he knew he'd gone full retard, he just didn't know how to retain a normal state just yet.

"If you want I can try to help you."

That's when Dean snapped like an overstretched elastic band. "No, Cas. I _don't_ want you to fucking help me alright? I don't want you to tell me that it's all gonna be _fine_ and that I did what I did because of the stupid mark because that just isn't true! I wasn't possessed by a demon, I _was_ a demon, it was all me and hell yeah I'm havin' a hard time now because I did terrible things and no one should pretend like any of it wasn't a big deal."

He was breathing raggedly, registering somewhere in the back of his mind that he had dropped his cup and was now standing between shards of ceramic and spilt coffee while Cas was looking at him with a practically serene expression, only a dangerous glint in his eyes reminding of the powers he harboured. With an almost scary calmness about him, the angel placed his own cup on the counter before stepping closer, not exactly invading Dean's personal space like in good old times but still stopping near enough that Dean caught a whiff of shower gel. (_The fact that it was oddly close to a turn-on to smell _his_ shower gel on Cas was another story for another time, preferably, say, _never_.)_

"Dean Winchester." Well, shit was going to hit the fan big time if Cas played the first plus surname card. "Do you honestly believe I would attempt to justify your actions? I may not be the best example of an angel but that does not change the fact that I have no interest in defending what you did by taking Cain's Mark upon yourself in the first place. It was a massively stupid decision and I'm still convinced that, had you decided to consult with me, we would have ended up with a better solution concerning Abaddon." When Dean was about to interrupt, Cas raised a hand in a silencing gesture. "_However_, nothing could ever change the fact that you are important to me, no matter the situation. We can't do anything about what's happened because what's done has been done, irreversibly so. That doesn't mean I will step back and let you drown yourself in pity over your own actions just because you, once again, fail to see the value you have to others."

Yet again Dean was breathing hard but for different reasons. His first impulse was to deny everything and insist that he really _wasn't worth saving_, but by now he sounded like a broken record even to himself so he dropped the act, slumping his shoulders in defeat. Truth was, he'd needed to hear that so badly, have someone he cared about tell him that he was to decision-making what the guy on the lookout for icebergs was to the friggin' Titanic. It was something Sam failed to do entirely, always going for praise instead of condemnation. Cas had always understood him better when it came to his psyche, maybe because he wasn't blinded by adoration- for lack of a better word- like Sam. That didn't mean he was completely unbiased.

"Who taught you to hold speeches like that?" the hunter asked weakly, for the first time in way too long tired of the taste of stale booze on his fuzzy tongue and the pulsing ache in his head. Cas was right, he needed to stop it with the pity party already and get a move on.

"I… it was impulse," Cas admitted, looking almost surprised, at least judging by his owlish expression.

Dean chuckled. "Okay. Well, thanks anyway. I needed a firm kick in the butt. And I'll see to stop getting wasted on a regular basis." It wasn't exactly tackling the main issue, but it was a start and for now it ought to be enough. Cas nodded once, pleased with what he had achieved. For a little while they just stared at each other, calculating whether a hug would fit the situation or not. Ultimately, Dean settled for a friendly grip on Cas' shoulder, squeezing once to express his gratitude. As he let go- almost reluctantly- his gaze fell back onto the mess on the floor. He sighed. "I'll just clean this up and then take a shower. Wanna have some real breakfast later?"

Cas didn't answer straight away, seemingly lost in thought for a moment, but quickly snapped out of it. "If you are willing to cook, I volunteer to clean this up. Go have your shower."

"Naw, Cas, you're spoiling me," Dean joked to overplay how touched he actually was. "I'll make sure to give you double bacon." That rare little half-smile pulled Castiel's lips up and Dean pretended not to notice something flutter in his stomach that was entirely unrelated to food as he turned around and headed for the bathroom. Maybe spending some time in the bunker with Cas wasn't the worst therapy after all, not that he would ever let Sam know that.

**…**

The rest of the day passed rather uneventfully. Dean _did_ end up making a bacon breakfast with bacon on the side- because surely an angel and a Knight of Hell couldn't die of high cholesterol, right?- and the only conflict arose a while later when Dean suggested they watch a movie which resulted in Cas almost literally searching all of Netflix until Dean had enough and settled on _Game of Thrones_ instead. Cas watched it with an intrigued head-tilt but without the sceptical squinting of his eyes, a fact that Dean interpreted as a positive reaction to his favourite show. _(After _Dr Sexy, MD_ but Cas already knew that one, so shut up._)

Speaking of Cas- the guy was practically dozing through the second episode in a row by now and that shit was exciting as fuck. Dean nudged his companion into a slightly more awake state, barely suppressing a smile when a tired pair of blue eyes blinked open in a decidedly non-threatening glare.

"What's up with you and your beauty sleep?" he asked playfully, not quite expecting the millisecond of mortification shadowing the bottomless pools of blue.

"It's my stolen grace. The more power I can safe, the longer it will detain from burning out. Sleep requires minimalistic effort. I apologize if I'm bad company."

"No, no, Cas, you're good. Sorry for my douchey move." There was a short silence before Dean spoke again. "You should probably go to your bed though, catch some real rest."

"I suppose that wouldn't be a bad idea at this point," the angel agreed with a frown, slowly moving to get off Dean's bed and careful not to accidentally push the laptop set up on the mattress. They hadn't been lying particularly close but somehow Dean felt like he was already missing the warmth of the body next to his. He looked up at Castiel, noticing the slacks and dress shirt combination for the umpteenth time but only now realizing what was so strange about it.

"Do you sleep in those clothes?"

Cas looked down his own body with mild confusion. "Is there something wrong if I do?"

Dean barked out a laugh and got up as well. "No, man. It just doesn't look very comfy." He walked over to his dresser, searching the messy drawers for a pair of sweats. When he found one he tossed it at the angel. "Here. You can wear these." Castiel's expression was blank for a second before it was replaced by one of such gratitude it immediately reminded Dean of Dobby the house elf receiving a sock. He laughed at his own reference.

"Thank you, Dean," Cas said earnestly.

The hunter shrugged. "Don't mention it, Cas. I'll just finish this episode and then try to catch some Z's as well. You need anything, you call. You know the spiel." Castiel just nodded his head before he retreated to his own room.

**…**

As Dean had predicted, or feared actually, he was kind of reluctant to close his eyes without the mind-numbing safety of alcohol to assist his descent into oblivion. The images of the past few months haunted him more than any supernatural creature he had faced over the years and the longer he refused to fall asleep, the more he felt like a wuss. If his dad had seen him like this, all the consolation he'd have had offer would have been a slap in the face with the flawless advice to man the fuck up. He was sure John had been way past being afraid of anything, always focused on his mission, and Dean wanted so badly to get that feeling of invincibility back that had accompanied them on the road together. Had it really been six years since he…? _Fuck_. Time flies if you let it.

Dean was a good hunter, perhaps greater than John had ever been, but it was hard to get rid of his dad's heroic image, imprinted in his mind. John Winchester had pretty much been the epitome of hunting, a ruthless slayer of evil that seemed absolutely untouchable right until he'd given up- forcing his sons to follow the legacy. And to think that the loss of his old man had only been the _beginning_ of the dramedy that was his fucked-up life! Pam, Jo, Ellen, Benny, Bobby… freaking _Kevin_, for Christ's sake… they'd all still be alive if Dean had been more like his dad. If he had been more sturdy and unwavering in protecting his friends and family.

For a moment Dean Winchester felt like the little boy who lost his Mom all over again.

If he was honest with himself he knew he was being irrational. He'd always done what he thought was just, had stuck to his principles and saved many lives but everyone was weakest when laying in the dark, unshielded against their thoughts, horrors and reservations. He was no exception to this fault in human existence. This glitch in the game.

Since he had promised Cas to keep from further fucking up for the time being, he steadily fought the urge to go and have a drink of whatever. He was a grown-ass man, he didn't need fucking sleeping aids like some sort of addict. Dean rolled off his memory foam mattress, padding blindly across the room on socked feet until he practically collided with his desk where he kept his tapes and old-school tape recorder. Sure Sammy had gotten him one of those damn iPod things a while ago but Dean still preferred the technology of simpler times. He grabbed the item from where it lay and returned to his bed, resting against the headboard. He felt for the approximate whereabouts of the 'play' button and hit it, immediately more relaxed when _Def Leppard_'s '_Photograph_' flooded his ears. Usually he'd avoid drowning out his surroundings, basic instinct always keeping him on his toes, but he wasn't in some unguarded motel room, he was in a secret bunker. He could afford to close his eyes to the music and pretend that it would protect him.

Many songs played and faded again while Dean was in a pleasant state of slumber, floating in a limbo between being awake and unconscious. His grasp on the concept of time was lost and whenever he started into a slightly more awake condition he felt like he had only slept for a couple of seconds, even while he knew an entirely different song was suddenly playing.

Every desire to sleep went out the window when the door to his room cracked open, dipping the area into the sickening white light of the neon tubes in the hallway outside and almost giving Dean a freaking heart-attack. The hunter hectically struggled to sit upright, ripped his headphones from his ears and tried to focus but he was blinded by the sudden brightness and his hearing was slightly numbed from the volume of his music. The fact that he knew the intruder in the doorway- recognizing him by the messy outline of his hopeless bedhead- didn't necessarily slow down his rapid heartbeat.

"Fuck, Cas, give a guy a warning," he groaned, dropping backwards again and throwing an arm over his eyes in search for cover from the light like he was a vampire or something.

"I'm sorry," Cas said and jeez his voice was so rough, it sounded like he had deep-throated a sheet of sandpaper just a minute ago. Not that he would ever imagine Cas deep-throating anything. (_The fuck you think you're doing, brain?)_

"What do you need?" Dean asked, pointedly ignoring the slight pressure in his groin. He probably just needed to pee, no need to give it any attention whatsoever.

"I was just getting myself a glass of water when I heard something in your room… if I had known you were asleep I wouldn't have come in." The angel stared guiltily down at his bare feet. The noise he was referring to was probably Dean's music, he realized, which was still blasting the last notes of a song even now as they were speaking.

"It's fine," Dean said with a sigh. "Just knock next time, alright? For all you know I could've been jerkin' off and I don't think you would've wanted to walk in on that." He had meant it as a joke and Cas' voice seemed perfectly even as he chuckled but by now Dean's eyes were used to the lighting enough to see the angel's eyes clouded with something that indicated he might not be completely repulsed by the idea of such an interruption. Before Dean's infinitely unhelpful mind could provide vivid imagery on the topic however, he changed the course of the conversation. "What time's it?"

"Just after two o'clock in the morning," Cas answered smoothly, apparently just as grateful for the distraction as Dean himself.

"Fuck," Dean said.

"Do you have trouble sleeping?" Cas asked, casually leaning a shoulder against the doorframe as he took a sip of water.

"Understatement of the year." The hunter huffed in annoyance, only just realizing how much he had really grown to depend on alcohol as his bedtime candy. The angel regarded him with squinted eyes for a flash before pushing off from where he was leaning in order to enter the room, slowly putting the waterglass away and creeping closer. It wasn't an intimidating action but somehow Dean felt himself swallowing hard, especially when Cas reached out to him.

The hunter shied away from the outstretched hand, making the angel wince in return. "Dean..."

"No, Cas, you're not mojo-ing me to sleep. You're supposed to be on power saving mode, remember? I can deal with an odd nightmare here and there."

Unabashedly ignoring him, Cas moved his hovering hand into Dean's hair, stroking it through the slightly shaggy strands as he crouched down until he was at eye-level with where Dean was lying on the side, perched up on his elbow. Before he even fully registered what was going on he let the touch happen, savoured the feel of having someone there with him. While Castiel's one hand moved down from his hair until it rested on the side of the hunter's face, his other hand came up as well so he was framing Dean's cheeks. It was bizarre, how it felt not at all as weird as he would have imagined it. In fact, Dean caught his eyes drooping slightly as Cas stroked his thumbs over his slight stubble, fingers calloused but soft nonetheless. He felt about ten times more relaxed than he had in a ridiculously long time.

That was, until a thumb accidentally- or purposefully- brushed his lips and sent a burning trail of white heat through his entire being, immediately making him snap out of his trance-like state, eyes suddenly wide open again. Cas' expression was almost a mirror image of Dean's own bewilderment, his hands almost comically frozen mid-air as his mouth opened and closed again without forming any actual words.

"I- I don't know what- My apologies," Cas finally stammered, dropping his hands in his lap and leaning back to sit on his heels as he cleared his throat.

Dean rubbed agitatedly at the back of his neck, avoiding all eye-contact. This was definitely not at all something he had ever expected. "Let's not… uh… Just drop it, alright?"

Cas nodded slightly from what Dean could see out of the corner of his eye. The angel got up with a sigh, looking around the room for a moment before moving to grab a chair and placing it at the foot of Dean's bed. The hunter raised a quizzical eyebrow, already forgetting that he was trying not to look directly at Cas.

"I intend to watch over you," the angel clarified as he sat down on the uncomfortable looking piece of furniture.

Dean blinked stupidly at his friend. "Didn't we agree that it was one of the ground-rules for you _not_ to do that kinda shit, like, five years ago?"

"Not quite phrased like this but yes. I just know from experience that a non-threatening presence of another being can be beneficial to falling asleep more easily, but if you want me to leave I will of course-"

"Stay," Dean blurted out, meeting Cas' eyes in the dark on purpose. "Just… stay." He didn't know whether it was because he really felt an odd sense of reassurance at the thought of someone keeping his demons at bay while he slept or rather because of the fact that it was _Cas_ offering to _stay_ when he usually just fluttered off after a while. Anyway, relief settled in Dean's stomach as he detected Cas' faint smile and as he pulled the covers from beneath his body to hide under the blanket he found himself smiling back, even if Cas was unlikely to see it. The light in the hallway went out without either of them moving and Dean was close to wording his dismay at the unnecessary use of stolen grace but a yawn cut him off. The darkness that had seemed so terrifying before now functioned as a safety blanket and Dean finally, _finally_ let himself succumb to sleep.

He wouldn't wake until well past noon.

**...**


	3. Chapter 3: Saturday

_**A/N**  
>should I change the rating to M? reviews are my cherry pie. x<em>

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><p>Dean wasn't exactly sure why he expected Cas to still be there in the morning but something akin to disappointment dropped heavy in his stomach when he wasn't. There wasn't much time lost on frowning over the case of the missing angel though once the hunter blinked a couple of times without his eyelids drooping with heaviness or when he rolled out of bed smoothly instead of reluctantly. For a second he thought Cas must have secretly worked some angel magic despite his protests but soon enough he realized that he was simply very well rested. And the fact that he took divine intervention as a more reasonable explanation than actually having had enough sleep, well, that plainly proved that it had been way too fucking long since he had let himself rest.<p>

A wide yawn stretched across his face as he exited his room, contently padding down the hallway into the bathroom's direction. Almost twelve hours of sleep strained a guy's bladder capacity pretty good. The atmosphere was peaceful, Dean noticed, so he expected Cas to be off somewhere in the depths of the bunker's weird-ass laboratories or the filing room or whatever. What he definitely did _not_ expect was Castiel standing in the bathroom and wearing nothing but a damn pair of sweatpants as Dean pushed the door open.

"And to think you called _me_ 'Mr Comatose'," the angel greeted with audible air quotes in his voice as he met Dean's eyes in the mirror. "I was planning to check on you if you hadn't woken up soon, you almost had me worried."

"Uh, yeah, well…" Dean cleared his throat as his gaze took an involuntary journey over the plains of Cas' exposed torso, almost-six-pack, tanned skin and all slowly coaxing an unwelcome third party to join them. In his defence, he had literally just woken up, like, four minutes ago and he had to pee more urgently than he could ever remember so what if he didn't have his downstairs brain under full control right now. So fucking what. Anyway, this was definitely not the time to pop an awkward morning boner over the sight of your best angel friend doing…. Whatever he was doing with his shirt off. Not implying that there was ever a right time for that, because there wasn't. The fact that Cas was wearing _his_ sweats did not exactly improve the situation one bit and Dean simultaneously regretted and celebrated his decision of lending the angel his clothes.

"Dean." The voice was even more like gravel now that it had lost the teasing undertone from before. Cas half-turned in his direction and, God forbid, was that a slight bulge in the pants? Fuck, that hadn't been there a minute ago. Apparently the hunter's blatant ogling hadn't been quite as subtle as intended but why on earth would _Cas_-

"I gotta use the bathroom!" Dean meant to sound casual but the slightly squeaky edge of panic in his voice sort of ruined that, turning his statement into an exclamation.

Cas blinked once and visibly snapped out of whatever sphere he was in, eyes clearing up. "Of course," he said, gathering his things from around the bathroom sink and taking a step aside, obviously waiting for Dean to do something, only the hunter had no idea how to get his body to function the way he wanted it to. "We won't both fit through the doorway," the angel stated.

"Right. Sorry." Dean took a couple of steps backwards until his back hit the wall across the hallway, giving Cas more than enough space to exit. When the angel walked out and down the hall, Dean darted forward, slammed the door shut behind him and locked it so quickly as if he was trying to escape an entire army of hell hounds. Thankfully, the unexpected stress had eased his sneaky semi-erection down enough to make peeing not exactly easy but still more efficient than with a raging hard-on. Dean considered the possibility of hallucinations caused by sleep abundance briefly as he flushed the toilet but quickly abolished the thought due to ridiculousness.

He caught a look at his own reflection in the mirror as he washed his hands and scowled at himself. Sure, he could appreciate a nice physique if he saw one, no sense in denying that, but his body had more than a little overreacted at the sight of another dude's bare upper body. Rationally, there should be no interest coming from anywhere below his belt concerning that particular situation whatsoever so either his dry-spell had lasted too long or he was- No. There were no other option.

This was dumb.

Dean angrily pushed open the cabinet, hiding from his all-too knowing reflection, and fished for his toothbrush. He was a little too generous on the toothpaste but pretended he liked to have foam dripping from his mouth like he had fucking rabies. As he brushed vigorously, almost like he was aiming to break the world record in oral cleanliness, the hunter mentally counted off reasons why there was absolutely no reason to freak out. Obviously, he was really interested in women because he definitely had a dating profile stating just that to prove it, and he could pretty much charm the panties off any girl just by smiling and flexing his bicep a little. Yeah, so there was definitely no lack of confidence. Dean in fact used to think he looked good enough to turn even a straight guy gay for a night… which was actually not that good an argument considering what he was trying to convince himself of. Dean shook his head at the mental image, sending toothpaste foam flying. No, he definitely needed some other mental visuals… like the many nights he'd spent with Lisa or… or that one time with Anna. Damn right, Dean Winchester was hot enough, he'd banged an angel.

_Banging an angel in the backseat of his car… dark hair, blue eyes_- STOP.

Dean spat the toothpaste-saliva mixture in the sink. Forget the mental visuals, a cold shower was what he needed. _ASAP_. He rinsed his mouth and splashed some water on his face, stealthily avoiding his mirror image.

**…**

Freshly showered Dean let the towel wrapped around his waist drop to the floor once he was back in the safety of his room. All his earlier thoughts washed down the shower drain with everything else that could possibly shake his personal securities. Now that this was dealt with, however, there was a new problem to face altogether: an empty stomach. They hadn't really eaten that much since Cas' arrival because the angel didn't actually need to eat for now as long as his grace was still going strong and Dean had spent an entire day too hung-over to even consider anything but the greasy bacon extravaganza he'd cooked up. Now the hangover was gone and in its place was a massive hole of starvation that demanded to be filled. The hunter rummaged through his drawers for a fresh shirt and a not-so-worn pair of jeans, throwing the pieces of clothing onto his bed before he grabbed his duffel bag, on the lookout for clean pairs of socks and underwear.

Everything gathered, he got dressed, cherishing the way he felt completely renewed. His hair was still slightly damp as he ran his fingers through it in an attempt to have it stick out less than it inevitably did after a shower. It had been a while since he'd kept it this long and it was almost shaggy. Of course in comparison to his brother's mane he was practically bald. Dean chuckled on the way out of his room at his own ingenious humour.

The chuckle died in his throat at the sight of a dark cloud of smoke came into view, even though it certainly wasn't a demon. The hunter rolled his eyes, already suspecting what or rather who was responsible, and broke into a lazy jog. "Cas?" he called out as he reached the doorway, waving a hand uselessly to keep the heavy smoke away from his face.

The only reply he got was a cough, followed by a weak exclamation of his name. Damn angel. Dean inhaled a lungful of uncompromised air and dove into the kitchen, holding out his hands so as to avoid crashing into things. He was only partly successful, already able to find and grab a hold on Castiel before he stubbed his foot on a counter. He moved forward to the stove in order to turn it off and caught a glimpse of what looked suspiciously of a charcoal version of fried something. His heart cried for the food wasted but his first and foremost concern was getting Cas and himself out of the smoke-filled room. He tugged at his friend's arm until the exit came into view again, breathing shallow to avoid inhaling too much of the black air surrounding them.

Outside in the hallway he pushed the angel out of harm's way before collapsing against the wall opposite to catch his breath. "The fuck is all this about?" he asked between panting breaths.

"Apparently my culinary skills are even more impeded than I thought."

Regardless of his annoyance Dean huffed a laugh. "Ya think?"

Cas directed his gaze at his shoes and blushed- freakin' _blushed_- with mortification. Dean had seen that expression often enough but the faint colouring of the angel's cheeks was new and a faint voice that Dean didn't fully acknowledge whispered that it was pretty darn cute. It made a being almost as old as time itself look like a young boy that had dropped his mother's favourite china plate. "I'm sorry, Dean."

Dean pulled himself into a more upright position and went to stand by Castiel's side, clasping his shoulder until the angel dared to meet his eyes. There was a short pause before the hunter spoke. "I don't think there's any real damage to the kitchen appliances, Cas, and the rest? Doesn't matter. Nothing that can't be fixed. Just promise me you'll stick to making coffee and sandwiches in the future and leave the Jamie Oliver stuff to me."

Cas nodded, disappointment and understanding easily readable in his blue eyes. Dean swallowed hard. No matter how often they had their little staring contests, it always surprised him just how blue Castiel's eyes were and made him wonder if it had something to do with Cas being an angel or if Jimmy Novak had just been a guy with A-plus genetics. That one time that he had actually met the guy sans angelic possession he'd been too preoccupied with finding Cas to pay attention to the exact shade of blue in Jimmy's eyes. Also, as reluctant as he was to admit it, his, uh, _relationship_ with Cas had changed quite a bit since then, so the majority of all the soul-staring had happened after the Novak debacle.

With a start he realized that he was still clasping his friend's shoulder and that it might be borderline awkward by now so he cleared his throat, cracked an easy smile and took a couple of steps back. The smoke had dissipated somewhat and Dean decided to inspect the damage done to his kitchen.

It really had looked way more dramatic than it turned out to be, he noticed with a relieved exhale. Sure, he would definitely have to replace the pan still resting on the stove but all work surfaces would be good as new after a nice wipe-down and about half a can of air freshener. A quick glance at one of the countertops revealed that Cas had obviously attempted to make a dish to do with eggs and the realisation reminded Dean of the reason that had him go anywhere near the kitchen in the first place. "How about we go have something to eat in town? There's a diner that offers all-day breakfast items."

Cas didn't reply straight away even though Dean could feel the angel's presence in his back, faint waves of physical warmth radiating off him. The hunter turned halfway, raising an inquisitive eyebrow. Castiel bit his bottom lip. "Sam asked me to keep you in the bunker," he finally admitted, voice low with guilt.

Dean barely kept from slamming his head against a hard surface. Of-fucking-course his brother would ask such a thing. "Sam's not here if you haven't noticed," he said dryly, well aware that any protest would be for naught. Cas shrugged apologetically. Dean sighed. "Alright. Never mind. But you're helping me with cleaning this mess up and then you'll make me some coffee while I prepare a meal that doesn't look like it's about ready to fire a steam engine."

Castiel nodded and they went to work.

**…**

It felt like hours later when finally placed a plate of steaming pasta with basil and cocktail tomatoes in front of Cas before settling in a chair adjacent of the angel's with a slightly more generous portion of food resting before him. "Early bird special," he declared with a wink. It was half past five so calling it 'dinner' would be a bit soon- even more so considering it was technically their breakfast.

"Thank you, Dean," Cas said as he picked up his fork. "I don't think I've had pasta before…"  
>Dean, mouth already stuffed, turned his head sharply, mumbling something incomprehensible but outraged. Castiel rolled his eyes. "I never had occasion to enjoy a home-cooked meal or dine at a restaurant, in case you're not aware."<p>

"Eat!" Dean ordered- "For Pete's sakes EAT!"

The angel followed the order without further ado and when the first taste of pasta hit his tongue Dean almost wished Cas would still only taste molecules because the guy let out a moan that a) was probably illegal in 49 states and, more embarrassingly, b) went straight to his dick. And this time Dean didn't have any of his half-assed excuses from that morning, much to his dismay.

"This is really good," Cas spoke around a mouthful of food, noisily and contently chewing away. "I can't believe you made this."

Dean laughed nervously, too distracted by his nether regions to respond properly. For example get fake-offended at the obvious joke or something along those lines. Damn Cas' lips were full, though, he thought as he tried to remember why he really shouldn't watch the angel's mouth as closely and with as much interest as he currently did.

In his head a voice that sounded terrifyingly similar to his father's told him to get a goddamn grip.

So, naturally, Dean tried. He tried to tear his eyes away and pleaded with the hardness between his legs to away because this shit wasn't alright. Not that he had a problem with, well, dudes liking other dudes but this was his own body he was having trouble with, his own feelings. This wasn't usually something that gave him headaches so what the fuck was going on?!

Castiel's obscene fucking moans, that's what.

A cold sweat broke out on Dean's face and he felt almost like a couple of hours before when smoke had filled his lungs and he'd had trouble breathing properly. Only now it felt like there was a dead weight crushing his chest, preventing his lungs from expanding to their full capacity. He swallowed, knowing how ridiculous this reaction was. He was skating on the edge of a panic attack- or at least he thought he was, he'd never actually had one before- because of a little too much blood in his dick than was appropriate. Big fucking deal.

He noticed too late that Cas had in the meantime gotten over his foodgasm and was eyeing him with a frown. Apparently he'd said something, asked a question maybe, and Dean had missed his cue to respond. From the way the angel's lips moved, Dean guessed he was asking if everything was alright. Cas reached out and was just about to touch him when Dean decided that he wasn't hungry anymore and it was definitely time for some private time with him, his right hand, and an issue of Busty Asian Beauties. You know, 'cause he liked women.

So what if Cas looked like a confused puppy when Dean avoided his touch like he was toxic.

So what if he broke the stupid chair as he pushed it backwards too forcefully before he almost sprinted to his room.

**…**

If Dean beat off to blue eyes and gravelly moans it was none of anyone's business. He sure as hell wasn't gonna admit it, even to himself.

**…**


	4. Chapter 4: Sunday

**A/N** sorry for the delay, I have a stupidly important paper to write that I'm procrastinating on so I force myself to work on that instead of my fics and I'm sorry if that sucks. Believe me, I'm pissed too.

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><p>Dean stayed in his room the entire next day, only sneaking into the bathroom every once in a while. He was well aware of how odd his little display of panic had been the day before and how confused it must have left Castiel. He felt worlds better now that he was alone and could tell himself all the little half-truths he pretended to believe. For example, he didn't like Cas in any way that went past a strong bond of purely platonic friendship, he was just extremely horny, is all. And since literally no one except Sam was usually around he hadn't noticed the admittedly desperate state of desire until Cas had turned up. It was nothing but awkward coincidence that he felt less in control over Little Dean with his friend around. He was glad that he had things settled. Everything could go back to normal now.<p>

The hunter quickly realized that it wouldn't be quite that easy when a timid knock sounded at his door and he almost jumped a foot in the air- a very impressive height, seeing as he was actually sitting on his freaking bed. "Yeah?" he croaked before clearing his throat to settle his voice.

"Dean? Can I come in?"

The same dude who had waltzed right into his room at ass o'clock at night as if he goddamn belonged there now sounded like he was afraid of getting smote if he even as much as cracked the door open an inch. Dean sighed, seriously considering to send the angel away but thinking better of it. He rolled off his mattress and crossed the room to unlock his door, pulling it open maybe a bit more forcefully than strictly necessary.

Cas stood at a small distance, uncertain if Dean's sudden fury had been directed at him personally or at the world in general. Either way, it had been a smart move to stay away and Dean appreciated the bubble of personal space the angel granted him.

"You barely ate half your food yesterday," Cas stated quietly, avoiding to look directly at the hunter. Only now did Dean realize that Cas was holding a steaming plate of pasta in his hands. For a second Dean felt his heart constrict in his chest before it seemed to melt into his stomach. He swallowed. Sam always made sure he ate- although it really wasn't something that needed to be watched since he was basically Gluttony incarnate but mostly Dean felt like his brother did it more out of duty than anything else. Cas' concern made Dean feel like less of a burden.

He reached out, taking the plate out of Cas' hands while carefully avoiding skin-contact. "Thanks." There was a short awkward pause during which Dean eyed his delicious piece of edible art and Cas observed his tied shoes closely. "Listen," Dean started, "I'm sorry about running off like that. I just… remembered something." It wasn't a complete lie… although it was pretty damn far from the truth. But seriously. He could hardly say 'Hey, Cas, Sorry but you made me wanna jerk off in the shower. No homo.'

Castiel looked up and just stood there and freakin' stared at him with those vibrantly blue eyes, his expression a mix of hurt and understanding. The guy knew exactly that something was up- although Dean fervently hoped that he wasn't aware the 'something' was his dick.

"If anything was the matter… you would tell me, right?"

At that Dean cracked a painfully superficial half-smile. "Sure. Don't sweat it. I'm great. Everything is great. …I'll better eat this beauty up while it's still hot." He held the plate an inch higher and stepped back. "Thanks again, buddy!"

With that he practically threw the door in Cas' face, wincing when the bang echoed through the empty hallways outside. Dean leaned against the door, sinking down along its surface until he sat on the ground, plate cradled in his lap.

The fuck was that performance.

Everything had been pretty chill since Cas' arrival. A bit awkward, maybe, but then again things were always a little awkward when the angel was involved. Point is, Dean didn't get why he had to overcomplicate the situation. He was a relaxed dude and Cas was losing the stick up his ass and they were two buddies hanging together until Sam got back. He just couldn't quite deliver that message from his upstairs brain to its downstairs counterpart.

Also, speaking of Sam; the little shit hadn't called yet. Which either meant the hunt had gone south besides Sam insisting he could handle it alone (unlikely), or his little bro had simply forgotten to call (highly unlikely), or Sammy had gotten himself laid and was too distracted to call (ridiculously unlikely since he was just a nerdy Sasquatch, let's be real).

Whatever it was, Dean decided now was as good a time as ever to call Moose HQ. The hunter moved up into a standing position, careful not to tip the plate in his hands, and crossed the room toward his bed. His phone rested on the bedside table and he reached for it, already searching his brother's contact. It took Sam a while to pick up, giving Dean enough time to get a couple of bites from the cooling pasta into his unsurprisingly still hungry stomach. Once his brother answered he even had the audacity to sound annoyed.

"Dean?"

"What happened to calling once you got to a motel," Dean grumbled through a mouthful of food.

Sam sighed. "Yeah, sorry about that. Traffic was hell and I've been kinda stuck doing research. You know how time flies."

"What d'you mean 'research'?" Immediately Dean's inner alarm bells took up their wail. "Thought this was just s'posed to be a quick in-and-out kinda thing?" He bit back the 'just like your sex-life'.

His brother sighed heavily, giving up the charade and letting his obvious exhaustion through. "Me too. I swear it just seemed like your textbook ghost haunting when I looked up the information I could find on the internet. But this? This is more than our usual vengeful spirit crap."

Dean swallowed the lump of food in his mouth, waiting for the younger Winchester to elaborate. When he didn't, the hunter sighed and put the plate away in favour of grabbing his laptop at the foot of the bed and calling it back to life. "That place have an address?"

"Dean." Sam's voice was stern. "I can handle this."

"Second pair of eyes won't hurt, Sammy. Just tell me what you're lookin' into so I can surf the web and see what slipped your radar." He heard Sam yawn and knew he had won. Flexing his hands until his fingers gave a satisfactory crack he exhaled sharply and pulled up the search engine of his choice, waiting.

"Fine," came Sam's voice from the other end of the line. "So listen. There's been some weird incidents around Wenatchee and the surrounding forests. Started out with mutilated cattle until whatever the hell this thing is discovered its taste for people."

"How many vics?"

"Three so far. But it won't be long until it kills again."

Dean dragged a hand down his face as he speed-read through the newspaper articles on his screen. Locals were on the lookout for a large wolf or even a bear, whatever seemed most suitable to be made responsible for the otherwise hardly explainable deaths. "There's no way you mistook any of that crap for a spirit, Sam."

The bitchface was almost tangible, even over the phone. Sam ignored his brother's accusation. "There's more. No one actually talks about it… well, no one really knows anything since the police reports have obviously been manipulated, far as I can tell at least. I did some snooping around and had a look at all crime scenes. Coroner says it was an animal attack, right? Well, you show me the animal that's handy with a pair of scissors and barbed wire, 'cause that's what the local sheriff was putting into an evidence bag when I arrived at the latest location."

"Okay, yeah. I think we can cross off 'bear' from the list of suspects," Dean mused, still reading through some of the poorly written online news reports. "What else?"

"The victims were all attacked within a five mile radius from one another, so I looked the area up on a map- an actual map, not Google, in case you're trying that right now."

Dean quickly closed the last window he'd pulled up. Which had definitely not been Google Maps. He was a professional, after all.

"Anyway," Sam continued. "So, I went to the local library and looked through the older maps archived. And guess what? A map from the early 1960's has been marked exactly in the centre of all those killings. I did some more research and discovered a stack of documents and newspaper articles dating back to 1962. There was a whole bunch of crap, old receipts and stuff, but there was also a photograph. I'll send it to your phone."

Not a minute later Dean's mobile vibrated with an incoming Text and he switched the speaker on so he could have a look. The image was slightly blurry but not aged beyond recognition, thankfully. That didn't change the fact that what Dean could make out on it was all kinds of crazy. "Is that guy… red?" he asked.

"Yup," Sam confirmed. "Never seen anything like it."

Dean still stared dumbly at the screen. There were five people standing in front of some old-ass cottage, which wouldn't be so unusual if one of them didn't look like freaking Redscull. "You said the pic was stashed with the map?" he asked, ignoring the uncomfortable feeling of having his brother hunt a thing they'd never encountered before across the country. On his own.

Sam absentmindedly mumbled an affirmative, apparently engrossed in some aspect of his research. "Dean, get this!" he finally exclaimed, loud enough for Dean to hold the phone a bit further away. "The cottage in the photograph still stands. And it's exactly in the spot marked on the map. There's gotta be a connection with the killings and the people in that picture."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Ya think?" he said, voice dripping with sarcasm.

"I'll definitely check that place out tomorrow," Sam said, sounding pleased with what he had found.

"Whoa, you might wanna hold your horses there for a minute," Dean interrupted his brother's smugness. "We have no idea what that thing is, what made it come back or what even brought it here in the first place. We're not even sure the pic isn't a fake. I think you should put things on hold and let me get up there as backup."

Sam scoffed. "And have more people die in the meantime? Yeah, I don't think so, Dean. I appreciate your concern and all but this isn't my first hunt alone. I can handle myself." There was a short pause until Sam seemed to consider something else. "Hey, don't you think Cas might know something?"

At the mere mention of the angel's name, Dean's stomach plummeted so low, he was certain he would have to scrape it off his bedroom floor later on. Great. He pinched the bridge of his nose, already feeling the faint pressure of a headache announcing itself. "I don't know, Sam," he uttered just before his silence became ridiculous, "Why don't you call _him_ and ask?"

"Isn't he still at the bunker?"

"'Course he is." Yep. Definitely a headache.

"So get him on the phone," Sam demanded with exasperation.

"I think Cas is asleep already," Dean gritted out. It was a blatant lie and he knew it too. He could hear the angel pacing somewhere outside.

"Asleep?" Sam sounded surprised. "So what, he sleeps now? Is he alright? I didn't get to talk to him much before I left… Did something happen?"

"Jesus, Sam. What is this, the Spanish Inquisition?" Dean rubbed somewhat agitatedly at the back of his neck with his free hand. "Cas is fine. Dude's just running on stolen grace mojo and wants to preserve energy or somethin'."

"Did you guys get to talk?"

"Sure. We sorted all our issues. Then we drank hot chocolate with tiny marshmallows in it, braided our hair and watched Mean Girls, just for the heck of it," Dean deadpanned. The hunter almost flinched when he realized that no matter how much false bravado he put into his statement, it didn't change the fact that they _had_ talked (a little) and they _had_ watched TV together… switch the hot chocolate for coffee and the hair-braiding for clothes-sharing and _voila_, you had the past two days. Apparently his life had turned into a rom-com somewhere along the way.

Sam sighed but it sounded amused for some reason. "Mommy and Daddy are fighting again," he mocked. "Now why doesn't that surprise me?"

"Shut up, bitch," Dean grumbled, expecting his brother to just respond with a huffed 'Jerk' and be done with this conversation. Sam, however, didn't take the bait.

"Look, I don't care whatever you are overreacting about this time, but you're not the only one with a lot on their plate right now. Cas might not outright say it because he's spent way too much time with you in the past apparently, but he needs your support."

Dean dropped backwards onto his mattress, feeling like a thirteen-year-old girl. "I know," he mumbled, stubbornness wearing off. Stupid, reasonable moose.

"So get over yourself and fill him in on the case," Sam ordered, the finality in his voice leaving no room for any argument whatsoever. "Call me when you got something."

"Take care, Sammy. Don't do anything stupid, y'hear?"

"Same goes for you, Jerk," his brother fired back good-naturedly before hanging up.

And hence Dean found himself once more in the depressing silence of his own room, knowing that the whole 'Better-Avoid-Cas-Until-Sam-Comes-Back'-thing wasn't going to work after all. Because his dumb asshat of a brother was on a hunt and didn't even know what he was after so it was either talk to Cas to gather intel, or have Sam tap-dancing in the Unknown. Fuck his life.

With a tired 'hrmph' the hunter dragged himself off his beloved memory foam, put his phone into the back pocket of his worn jeans, and closed his laptop for transport. He exited his room and checked all the different places Cas usually passed his time at. The library was a bust, as was the still slightly smelly kitchen and the shower room. Maybe Cas was asleep after all, Dean mused just as he passed by his own room again, headed for the angel's private quarters. For some stupid reason he felt nervous as he knocked. When he got no answer he repeated the action, more firmly this time.

There was some noise coming from inside. A soft groan, followed by the ruffle of sheets and finally feet shuffling across the floor. The door swung open to reveal a more than a little dishevelled Castiel. His hair was even more of a hopeless mess than usual and it made Dean's fingers itch with the urge to run through the dark strands and pull them into some kind of order. Cas really sported the bedhead like a pro. The next thing the hunter noticed were the sleeping clothes Cas had changed into again and he managed to control his reaction this time. It still sparked something repressed deep within himself, seeing the angel wearing his things, but he successfully managed to delude himself into faux obliviousness.

"Hey," he started off awkwardly, keeping his voice as soft as he could. "Did I wake you? I can come back tomorrow if-"

"No," Cas cut him off. "It's fine. I must have dozed off while reading my book, I'm glad you woke me. It would have been uncomfortable waking up like this in the morning."

"Yeah, uh. You're welcome, I guess?" Dean cleared his throat, not quite knowing how to start and hating it. Thankfully, Cas could sometimes be a smooth sonofabitch.

"Did you need my help with something?" he asked, completely ignoring the hunter's deer-in-the-headlights impression.

"Sam's got some issues with his case. He asked me to ask you about it because we ain't got a clue what he's hunting."

"Of course," Cas said, stepping aside. "Would you like to come in? Or, if that makes you uncomfortable we can go to the library. Have a look at the lore there," he back-paddled at the sight of Dean's uncomfortable look into the room.

The hunter decided that enough was enough. This was Cas, for Christ's sake. His awkward angel saviour and probably best friend. He should really get over himself, as Sam had not so subtly suggested. "Don't be ridiculous," he said, even though Cas was being the reasonable one out of the two of them, and pushed past the angel into the room. He made a point by flopping down onto the unmade bed. See? No harm done. Cas followed slowly, evidently relieved, and sat on the edge of the mattress, facing Dean.

The Winchester filled the angel in on what they had until now, which wasn't all that much, he realized as he repeated Sam's findings and showed the stuff he'd found online. Cas listened patiently, nodding every once in a while or throwing in a question here and there. Dean ticked off a list of information in his head as he went on until just the photograph remained. He showed that to Cas as well and to his surprise, though he really shouldn't have been surprised at all, the angel nodded.

"Just as I suspected," he murmured.

"You know what it is?" Dean asked, leaning slightly forward from where he was perched against the wall the bed was shoved up against.

Cas looked up from Dean's phone screen calmly. "You're dealing with a Loa."

The hunter's eyebrows were about ready for take-off. "Aloha what now?"

The angel chuckled. "_A_ Loa." When Dean obviously still didn't seem to get it, Castiel smiled and elaborated. "Loas are pagan Gods that appear in different cultures all over the world. They can appear as benevolent nature deities, or wrathful warriors. I'm afraid Sam is dealing with the latter. The appearance suggests a Petro Loa, which are associated with Haitian Voodoo cult. Since you also mentioned sharp objects and mutilated cattle, I belief the entity Sam is hunting is Lenglensou."

"Uh huh," Dean mumbled thoughtfully. "Why do you think that? I mean not that I don't trust you, Cas, but Sam's up there on his own. We gotta be absolutely certain here."

"Lenglensou rarely comes in possession because he dislikes the restrain of a human body, but in this age he seems to want to fit in, which explains why he was in his true form back in 1962 but isn't now. He could be anyone, since his skin-tone won't give his identity away. Him possessing a vessel also explains the cattle deaths and barbed wire. Lenglensou dines exclusively on warm bull's blood and has an affinity for all sharp objects."

"Okay, okay, slow down, Wikipedia," Dean gave in, admitting to himself that Cas was a badass research asset, as always. "What does the fucker want in Washington and how does Sam gank him?"

"Your brother will need the help of a Mambo who knows the ritual of blessing a stake of the Attalea palm, with which Lenglensou must be stabbed through the heart. As to why he is in a climate nowhere near his natural habitat, I'm afraid I do not know. But he is dangerous and easily offended, so tell Sam to be careful."

Dean gulped, concern for his little brother settling in his gut like a ball of concentrated acid. "Can't you, like, zap up there and help him out? He was right when he said it would take too long for me to get up there."

Castiel looked absolutely mortified for a moment before he looked away for the first time in what had to be fifteen minutes. "Believe me, I would. But I _can't_." The last words were whispered and broken. So even with a lot of resting the angel's grace was burning out rather quickly. For a moment Dean was uncertain who he was more worried for. His brother, or his angel. He settled on a 40/60 percentage in Cas' favour.

"Hey, it's alright," Dean murmured, aching for those blue eyes to look up again, but refusing to reach out and touch because he still didn't trust his body and he was so _fucking scared_ of losing control again.

"No, Dean. It's not." Cas sounded absolutely disgusted with himself. "There was a time when I could be more than a lexicon for you, when I could heal and assist you in combat. I… apologize for the inconvenience. You deserve better."

And okay, Dean knew self-depreciating bullshit when he heard it, having practically dedicated his life to the cause. Therefore, his reaction was obviously to kill fire with fire. "I definitely don't, Cas. But Whatever." He grabbed his phone from where Cas had dropped it on the rumpled bed sheets and quickly texted Sam about the Lenglensou and how to properly take care of the bitch. He knew Sammy would do just fine, it wasn't the first pagan god they'd sent into whatever Hell those douchebags went to. Once he looked up again he found Cas eying his hands as if they were disconnected from his body. Instead of addressing the self-worth-issue coloured elephant in the room, Dean craned his neck, trying to read the title of the book resting on the pillow, its spine facing upwards. "Watcha readin'?" he asked, deflecting every problem between them like the pro he was.

"The Hobbit," Cas answered automatically. "I saw the cinematic versions advertised on my drives throughout the country and thought I might as well work on my pop-culture knowledge. I am quite enjoying it so far."

Well, would you look at that. The little angel totally got Tolkien'd without Dean's help- which really shouldn't be cause for the sour taste of disappointment to flood his mouth but hey, Dean's body seemed to be in a constant state of raging rebellion so it wasn't even surprising. "When you're done you gotta read the Lord of the Rings series as well. We can have a movie marathon after." He didn't know what self-destructive force of madness had possessed him to utter those words because an hour ago he'd sworn to avoid Cas at all costs and now he was offering a roughly 17-hour Middle Earth extravaganza.

Cas, however, stopped looking so goddamn heartbroken as his head shot up again and immediately Dean threw all regrets out the window because yeah, _that's_ what he was talking about. Those unearthly blue eyes shimmered with something that wasn't quite mirth but hey, he'd take what he got. There wasn't much time to revel in his cheering-up success as Cas yawned and Dean robbed off the bed, ready to hit the hay himself. "Thanks for helping," he said sincerely once he was at the door.

"Anytime," Cas replied, settling under the covers and carefully picking up the book next to him. He held the item in the air for emphasis as he added, "I look forward to this. With you."

Dean smiled a genuine smile but didn't say anything as he left the room and closed the door behind him.

Truth was, he looked forward to it, too.

...

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><p><strong>AN 2**  
>About the case in this chapter- I did my research on the deity and everything I wrote is actually on the internet EXCEPT for the method of killing, on which I found zilch. But since most pagan gods in the series have been killed with some variety of spikey wood, I just went with that.<p>

leave a review, stay tuned for an update. x mwa


	5. Chapter 5: Monday

**A/N** Cas is so done with Dean's shit :P

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><p>Dean woke up at fuck-everything o'clock in the morning to the lovely sound of his phone that he had apparently missed to turn on silent mode before heading to bed the night before. Great way to start off the week. As if Monday wasn't bad enough by itself. He reached over to his nightstand and swiped a thumb over the display.<p>

"Yeah?" he slurred, trying to get his brain to wake up. When there was no answer from the other line he panicked for a second, thinking Sam had called and something had gone wrong before he could say anything. After another moment, the hunter smacked a hand against his forehead. He had just tried to freaking talk to a text message. With an embarrassed chuckle to himself he sat up and blinked a couple of times before focusing on the glowing screen. For what it was worth, the text _was_ from his brother but it merely informed him that the previous night's information had helped a great deal and the hunt was going good so far. Dean let out a breath he hadn't been entirely conscious of holding and quickly texted back.

Once Dean realized he was very unlikely to fall asleep again, he got up and gave his undivided attention to his morning routine. His entire body buzzed with the ever present knowledge in the back of his mind that he couldn't really leave the bunker without seriously pissing off Sam and/or Cas, and it was grinding his gears. He wasn't made for this shit, doing research for others while they hunted. He wasn't even forty yet, damnit, he could hunt fine. Fucking Mark of Cain or not. But he knew sulking wasn't going to do anything about anything so he told his inner whiny self to shut up once he was dressed and ready for another day of mundane activities and possibly not running into Cas by coincidence. They had made progress again but Dean still didn't like how different he felt around the winged dude and how impossible it seemed to categorize the feeling. So he kept the John Winchester Radio of Manly Advice playing in the back of his mind as he set about to grab a cup of coffee.

Of-fucking-course Angel Boy was already up and about as well because that was just Dean's friggin' luck, wasn't it.

The moment he entered the kitchen he got greeted by a bowl of cereal, orange juice he hadn't even known they had, and a cup of freshly brewed coffee. And as much as he tried he didn't find a single reason to be annoyed with the angel for setting this up. He had stuck to the No Real Cooking rule and still done something to take at least a little work off Dean and frankly, it was awesome.

"Good morning, Dean," Cas said from the sink just as the hunter settled down before his breakfast, immediately reaching for the coffee. He mumbled back a greeting, though that proved difficult with a mouth full of hot liquid. Cas acknowledged the attempt anyway and returned his attention to the dishes. He was in his slacks again but the shirt was unfamiliar, Dean thought as he chewed away on his cereal. It wasn't his white tax accountant top but a blue one that Dean just knew would work unfairly well with the angel's eyes. He was glad Cas had his back turned on him.

In his mind, John Winchester hosted the day's programme. _Winchester Ain't a Faggot Name_.

Dean almost choked on his food at the directness of the imaginary title. His subconsciousness was clearly not supporting the whole 'subtlety' thing. He shuddered at what his dad might have said to Dean's unhealthy infatuation with Cas' physical appearance. His real dad, not the mimicry in his head. He liked to think that John would have laughed it off (not that Dean would have let him find out, ever) and congratulated him on a joke well told before downing a beer. Yeah, that sounded about right. But there was no need to dwell on that and make the day sour before it had even begun, and it wasn't like this was rational thinking. Dean wasn't… he wasn't gay. He had nothing to worry about (and neither had John).

A hand on his shoulder startled him way more than it should have and the surprised jerk of his arm almost toppled his half-eaten bowl of cereal over. He pretended like this had been a perfectly reasonable reaction and glared at Cas, who immediately removed his hand from Dean's shoulder and looked apologetic. Man, Dean was being such a dick.

In a pathetic attempt to further smooth over this rough patch in their friendship that for once hadn't been caused by anything End of The World related- except for Dean personally, that was- he forced a smile for Cas' sake. Getting up he carried his dishes to the sink, deeming immediate washing-up unnecessary but not really wanting to let the bowl, glass and cup rest on the table either. With a sigh he turned, fake smile still in place, to face the angel, who was eying him like he'd grown a second head.

"Any plans for today?" Dean finally asked, almost flinching at how very wrong his cheer sounded.

"I was… planning on maybe reading through some of the older scrolls in the library. It is unlikely but they might contain some information about… whether or not my own grace can be restored at some point." Cas bit his lip in a very human gesture Dean had never seen on him before . "Except if you or Sam need anything concerning the Loa case?"

Guilt was an ugly thing. And right now that thing made itself perfectly at home in the hunter's chest. Cas had lost his grace, had it ripped from him, and no idea if he would ever be reunited with it. The very essence of him being an angel was practically non-existent and _still_ he put the Winchesters before himself. Offered his help before tending to his own needs. Not this time, Dean decided.

"Sam's doin' fine on the case. He says thanks, by the way." He took a couple of steps forward as Cas nodded his acknowledgement. "So, need some help with that reading?"

The angel reacted with surprise, obviously not having expected the offer. "Two people would certainly be more efficient in looking through the material," he admitted, though uncertainty rang clear as a bell through the statement.

"Exactly," Dean agreed. They were standing close and Cas really looked like he could use a friendly pet on the shoulder or a roughing-up of his hair- anything that spoke of affection. Only Dean, although the only one able to read between the lines of the angel's body language, was not the one who could give that kind of support right now. It wasn't like he had the constant desire to freakin' bone Cas but he simply couldn't trust himself. There was a fifty percent chance of nothing happening except Cas finding reassurance in a platonic touch of comfort… but the risk was the other fifty percent that could have Dean's blood boiling inappropriately at the contact because Cas was _Cas_.

Dean realized they had been awkwardly standing there for a bit too long already and motioned for Cas to lead the way to the library. After all he was the one looking for shit. On the short walk the awkwardness mostly dissipated as they both switched to professional researching mode.

In the library Cas walked along the shelves, pulling dusty folders into his hands and flipping through them before either putting them back or handing them to Dean who then examined them more closely, looking for key words. They worked silently, not needing verbal communication and the only sound was the rustle of paper. Every once in a while Dean would look up and find the angel standing in the room, eyes flying over the page and lips moving with the words. It struck him how much he liked having Cas there with him. The bunker was his and Sam's home, or the closest thing to it at least, and it felt pleasantly domestic to see Cas moving about as if he belonged there. Which he did, Dean thought. Cas was absolutely meant to read The Hobbit in his own room, have coffee in the kitchen whenever he pleased and stroll through the library like it was his as much as it was the Winchesters'. With a start the hunter realized that he couldn't remember the last time Cas had stayed this long without flapping off.

"Hey," he said thoughtfully. "Are you gonna return to Heaven if you get your grace back? Like Hannah?" What he was asking was if Cas was planning on leaving him. (And Sam).

The angel looked up from the yellowed paper in his hands, brow furrowed with confusion at the unexpected question. "I doubt I'd be very welcome. Even after revealing Metatron's plan the majority of the angels distrust me. I will continue to do the best I can for those who have chosen to stay on earth."

"So…" Dean said cautiously. "You're going to leave again."

"At some point, yes," Cas confirmed. "You will too. Go on hunts with Sam, safe the world." There was a small smile in Cas' eyes as he crossed the room but it died when he reached for Dean's hand and the hunter pulled away. He knew Cas was trying to be comforting but he wasn't doing a great job.

"Why don't you leave now?" he asked provocatively. "Why do you pretend like you wanna be here when you obviously have a thousand things to do out in the real world? I mean, c'mon. This isn't you, Cas. You don't… stay."

Cas looked confused and more than a little hurt as Dean got up from his chair and started pacing. He was being stupidly sentimental right now and being pissed was way easier than actually showing his disappointment. "Dean, you're being unfair."

"No," the hunter snapped, stopping in his tracks to glower at the angel but when he spoke his voice was even. "I understand why you always have to leave. You got shit to do and so do I. I'm surprised you could spare the days you've been here so far and I really hope you can get your own mojo back soon so you're not stuck with my self-pity anymore." Dean knew he was only saying all this because he felt trapped himself. Cabin Fever or whatever. And at least Cas _could_ leave- he couldn't run from his problems because the biggest problem was freaking burned into the skin of his arm. With a shake of his head Dean turned, really feeling the need to have a drink. The angel's voice stopped him, forcing him to face the bastard no matter how much he wanted to flee the scene.

"Dean, I _don't_ think you understand." Cas shook his head slowly, eyes two deep pools of sadness before he looked away, fixating a point somewhere above Dean's head. "I will always attempt to be there for you because… you need me. You said so yourself. And no matter what accusations you throw my way or whatever danger you plunge into without even stopping to consider-" the quick glare at the mark, even though it was hidden under fabric, was everything but subtle- "I will find myself drawn to you and attempt to work with you. _For_ you. Because you need me and I- it's all I can do because against all odds and reason I wish that at some point you will realize that-" He broke off, breathless. Dean stared.

"That?"

The angel's sigh was one of defeat and he finally met Dean's eyes again. "That I need you, too." Another sigh. "I am well aware that I do not deserve your sympathy, let alone your friendship after what I have done in the past, but at the same time I also know that you have done little to still deserve my trust in return, yet there is not a being in existence that I would… follow as blindly as I would you."

Dean swallowed hard. This wasn't what he had expected. He perfectly deserved the accusing undertone in Cas' voice but there was also a softness that contradicted the angel's anger. "Why?" he asked, stubborn. There was a part of him that very much expected what was coming next, that knew what they'd had coming for way longer than what he'd realized at any given occasion before. "Why are you obviously so mad at me for takin' on the mark and leaving you alone when you were human and being an ass in general and still hang around?"

"Dean, this is dangerous. Do you really need me to say it? Because I _will_ say it and then I cannot take it back. And judging by your behaviour around me in the past days, I suspect you really don't want to hear this."

"Try me," Dean challenged, having a very strong suspicion on what Cas was just about to confess and strangely enough it didn't scare him as much as he would have guessed. He _wanted_ to hear it. If only to have a legitimate reason to freak the fuck out.

Cas laughed. A bitter sound, full of despair and bottled-up emotion. "You are a very frustrating man."

"Cas-"

"I am in love with you." There it was. That phrase Dean had known was somewhere in the angel's confession but hadn't dared decipher. Cas made an exasperated gesture, throwing the papers in his hands onto the table. "I love you and I don't know since when, I certainly don't know _why_… But I do."

Dean made a pained face, an inner war raging in his chest. There was no way in hell to write the confession off as brotherly love, thanks to the angel's phrasing. And deep down Dean knew that he would have never interpreted this any other way. But there was still that little minor thing that Cas was a freaking man. And so was Dean. "You know we- we can't- You know I don't swing that way, right?"

Cas rolled his eyes, making the small gesture seem grand. "I know you're not a homosexual, Dean. I rebuilt you, I've read your thoughts and I've seen your dreams. There is nothing in your head that would suggest you leaving women behind to suddenly indulge in Gay Pride." Dean sighed in relief but almost choked on air when Cas continued. "That doesn't change the fact that you are severely biased in your attitude by the way you were brought up."

"That has nothing to do with it, Cas," Dean snapped. "I mean yeah, dad wasn't particularly, uh, comfortable with the idea of, well… same-sex anything, but that's just his generation, man."

There was a look on the angel's face that Dean couldn't quite place. He thought it was close to pity. "Obviously the issue lays with him and we both are aware of that. You're not a homosexual," he repeated, eyes unwavering. "But you do have bisexual tendencies."

This absolutely topped the list of Uncomfortable Conversations. Dean had no idea how they had gotten here and why Cas was suddenly so interested in talking about whatever the heck this was when they had never done such a thing before. He had planned on throwing his tantrum and storming off to get wasted… not on having an open discussion on his decidedly messed up sexuality.

"It's not a crime to find men attractive," Cas said, "regardless of what your father told you."

Dean brought his fist down on the table with a forceful bang. "I _know_ it's not," he yelled. "But I don't, alright? I _don't_!" It really didn't feel like he was trying to convince _Cas_ at this point.

"Dean," Cas said earnestly. "John Winchester was an asshole. He raised his young sons to become ruthless killers out of desperation and I don't know why, even after his death, you still let your life be dictated by his opinion, when he was so obviously in the wrong. You are your own man. A _good_ man. I know I probably will not be able to convince you of that but I will try. I will try for however long you need me to. And yes, part of that is due to the fact that _I need you as well_. You and Sam are… the only companions I have still left. I have managed to push everyone else away, or do worse- but I can't do that with you. Not anymore."

The angel took a deep, shaky breath and continued in a lowered voice. "I admit that I'm not the most adept when humanity is concerned. But since knowing you, I have had my brushes with mortality and as much as I would like to say I regret it all… I don't. Not in the slightest. At the moment I am steadily approaching the loss of this grace and I don't know if that will mean I will fall, or burn out of existence. Either way, I came here for selfish reasons. I was upset because of Hannah and I was in need for comfort and-"

Somehow a levee broke somewhere and Dean had heard enough.

He darted forward, throwing his arms around the angel and burying his face in the fabric of his shirt. It smelled clean and soft and Dean inhaled deeply. Cas was so right. He had become his own man a long time ago, only haunted by his father's ghost in times of doubt. And he knew that, damnit. He knew it but he was terrified of change. He was terrified of putting himself out there because he was this horribly dangerous _thing_ that could cause a disaster at any given moment and he could really hurt Cas. And Cas would _let_ him, which was kinda the worst part of it all.

While all these thoughts raced through Dean's mind, Cas seemed more than a little taken aback by their sudden proximity but soon enough his arms came up from where they rigidly rested mid-air to wrap tightly around the hunter. At that moment Dean seriously regretted his stubbornness because _fuck_, all along he could have freakin' had this, could have touched Cas and felt his warmth when he'd felt cold, physically and emotionally. He felt the angel's unsteady breaths against his neck and pushed even closer, sure that if Cas were human he'd be crushing him. But Cas was unaffected by the hunter's bodily strength, even if he seemed to be in a similar state as Dean was emotion-wise. They stood there for a very long time, the embrace so intimate and the air between them so charged that their breathing was ragged.

"I think that's the most words you've ever said." It was a sheepish whisper, half-lost in the angel's shoulder.

"I carried them with me for a long time," Cas offered as explanation. It actually made sense.

"I'm… sorry," the hunter choked out, voice tight with regret.

"Me too," the angel replied.

It didn't matter what the apologies were for exactly. God knew they had enough reasons. What mattered was that Cas was there and Dean was there and they were hugging it out for all the times that they had failed to do so. The hunter's hands developed a mind of their own as they started roaming Cas' strong body. The muscles in the angel's back twitched as Dean stroked gentle circles with one hand, while the other moved up into Cas' perpetual bedhead. And god, he would never stop touching that hair because wow. That was seriously the stuff of all his phantasies ever, soft and perfect.

Cas' hands didn't stay still for long either, fingers running down Dean's side until he could hook them into the hunter's belt loops to effectively tug him closer. It wasn't meant as a sexual gesture but Dean was still surprised when it didn't evoke his little friend downstairs to stand at attention since that had been all the traitorous thing had done for the past days with far less physical contact. Instead his chest filled with this inexplicable warmth that he recognized as the deep affection reserved for the angel alone.

"I really don't know what to do with any of this, you know?" he said, pulling back so he could look at Cas. The statement wasn't filled with doubt, just plain wonder at the change.

"How about we just… continue with reading through the scripts I found for now. I'm possibly on to something and for the time being- neither of us has to be anywhere else." Cas didn't just mean the library, or even the bunker. He was saying that he was content with where they were now, with what they had. He was saying he wasn't leaving because he was committed and had been so for a ridiculously long time. And let's be honest here, so had Dean.

"Sounds like a plan," he muttered, blindly searching for Cas' hand and squeezing it once he found it because he felt like it. In his chest his heart did a stupidly pleasant flip when Cas smiled at the gesture, looking as if Dean had brought him the moon on a string. The situation didn't feel oppressing like he had always imagined it. He didn't feel tied down or trapped (Though he still wanted to get out of the damn bunker).

No. When Cas smiled like that, returning the gentle squeeze, Dean, for the first time in absolutely way too long, felt completely liberated.

…

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><p><strong>AN 2**

I suck at writing slow burn because I'm so damn impatient. That's something I really want to work on... _another time_. For this story, we're done with the angst-y shit. Next chapter will reveal the sappy side of those two asswipes because we all love that, don't we?

leave a review and stay on the lookout for the next chapter :)


	6. Chapter 6: Tuesday

"Cas, I don't think we're getting' anywhere with this."

Dean pushed the file he'd been studying away, leaned back in his chair and rubbed tiredly at his eyes. They had looked through every single file they had found on angels and besides learning that the Men of Letters had freaking truck load of absolutely useless or simply wrong information they hadn't gotten a single step closer to restoring Castiel's grace. A glance at his watch told Dean that it was nearing 3 a.m. which meant they had been doing research close to nonstop for almost twelve hours. And that's only after their long overdue emotional outburst. The work served as welcome distraction. It kept Dean's mind off the fact that Cas had- that he- Damnit, no. The hunter couldn't bring himself to repeat the words in his head just yet. It wasn't like he wanted Cas to take back what he'd said but c'mon. Just because one of them had overcome the emotional constipation they were infamous for didn't mean Dean could throw his insecurities out the window with a 'Hallelujah' and start a new chapter in his life like the past thirty-six years hadn't happened. Baby-steps were the secret to success in their case. Teeny, tiny baby-steps.

Dean realized that the angel hadn't reacted to his comment, like, at all and looked across the table, expecting the nerd to be too engrossed in the files to pay attention. That wasn't the case. Cas' head rested on the hard surface, face flattened against the paper of the report he'd been studying. His breathing was deep and even and Dean was sure if he didn't wake the guy soon there'd be a puddle of drool forming on the file. Against his better judgement he got up as silently as possible, feeling drawn to the sleeping form of his angel. The sight tugged at his heart and he felt himself smile sadly. He was aware of Cas' need for rest and remembered the few occasions before that he had seen the angel in an unconscious state. It sucked, seeing his friend so weak. He had once been Castiel, the terrifying warrior of Heaven and now he was… Cas, battered and broken and more man than angel. Although Dean very much wanted to blame himself he knew it would be unjustified. While he had initially brought the concept of free will to Cas' attention, it had been the angel's decision to rebel in the first place. Not that Dean had any objections. He wondered briefly how different his life would have been, had Cas stayed out of it and quickly abolished the thought. He didn't want to imagine a life without the dork. It seemed wrong after everything they'd been through.

Cas made a small sound in his sleep and the hunter's pained smile transformed into a softer expression. Without thinking he reached out and stroked his fingers through his friend's hair, again marvelling how something so utterly shapeless and chaotic could be this soft. Cas instinctively moved at the touch, mumbling something incoherent as Dean crouched down next to him. He was tired too and really thought it was time to call it a day. And since he could hardly leave Cas in the uncomfortable chair all night he moved his hand a little reluctantly to shake at Cas' shoulder. The angel made a noise of protest but didn't wake. Dean shook harder.

A deep breath signalled Cas' arrival in consciousness before he mumbled something that sounded almost like, "Leave me alone." Involuntarily, the hunter chuckled.

"Don't you think an actual bed would be nicer to sleep in?" he murmured, surprised at how much affection rang in his low voice and how little he felt like overplaying it.

"No."

Dean rolled his eyes fondly. Sleepy Cas was quickly becoming his favourite and his chest inflated with a bubbly warmth he hadn't even known he was still capable of feeling after the life he had. He swallowed the lump of emotion in his throat and moved his hand back to Cas' head, cupping his cheek like he had done that night he'd come into Dean's room. The action drew a sigh from Cas' lips and finally his eyes blinked open, blue and drowsy.

"Hi," Dean said, grinning like the happy fool he was. He didn't move his hand away, just stroked his thumb over the stubble on the angel's cheek. Cas tried and failed to suppress a yawn. "Seriously, I'm not letting you sit here all damn night. Get up." When the angel didn't, Dean pinched the side of his face, satisfied at the little yelp it earned him.

"_Dean_," Cas whined, even while he pulled himself up. The position must have been just as uncomfortable as it had looked because he grimaced as he rolled his stiff shoulders. Dean snorted with amusement, getting up as well while pointedly ignoring the noise of protest his knees made. Once they were both standing more or less upright Dean took a couple of steps back to give Cas some space.

"Will you be alright to find your bed?"

Instead of an answer Dean got an eye-roll. Which was not adorable because a) Cas was in the body of an adult and b) Dean was immune against all things cute in general (Except Sam's puppy dog eyes but come on, those were just unfair).

"Don't be ridiculous," Cas muttered, eyes flitting over the twenty-plus files spread out on the long table, all of them sporting the Aquarian Star.

"_You're_ being ridiculous," Dean countered. "You're almost dead on your feet. We've looked through enough old-ass reports for one day. It's time we got some shuteye."

Cas literally grumbled the entire way back to his room and Dean wondered if he had always had this side to his personality and if yes, why the hell would he have kept it hidden? It made him a lot less angelic, but not in a derogatory manner. Just… It was very hard to describe. Dean _liked_ this side of Cas.

They both stopped awkwardly at the door to his friend's bedroom. It was a little like a broken spell, some of the earlier magic gone but certainly not forgotten. Ultimately, it was Cas who reached out again, holding on to what was left of it.

"I'm so fucking confused about this," Dean admitted as he intertwined his fingers with Cas'. The angel nodded, not meeting his eyes because he was too busy staring intently at their connected hands. He squeezed his fingers softly and let go with a sigh.

"Goodnight, Dean," he whispered, looking up briefly before he disappeared into his room.

"Yeah." The hunter said to the closed door. "Night."

…

When Dean entered the library later that day, freshly showered and perfectly rested, he felt positively thrilled to see Cas standing by the files they had left there, cradling a glass of orange juice in his hands as he flipped through the pages one more time. His first impulse was to just hurry over and pull the angel into an embrace like the day before. It had just felt so damn good. But yeah he couldn't do that. This thing... whatever new level they had reached relationship-wise, it was fragile. He didn't want to mess it up by getting overly enthusiastic now. Cas seemed troubled by similar concerns. His smile was timid but lit up his eyes in a way Dean couldn't remember ever seeing them. He smiled back without even realizing it and stepped closer.

"Hey." His voice came out raspy and he swallowed in an attempt to smooth it out.

"Hey." Cas echoed, eyes darting down Dean's chest, darkening briefly before looking up again. He'd be lying if he didn't think it was hot. For a long moment they stood there in companionable silence, facing each other. Cas drank from his juice while Dean followed the quick swipe of his tongue as it chased a stray drop greedily with his eyes, mirroring the movement and feeling disappointed when all he could taste was the dryness of his own lips. He didn't even notice he'd crowded the angel against a bookshelf until Cas' breath hitched and he brushed against his chest as he moved to place the used glass on the surface at his side, leaning away from Dean's body. The hunter blinked a couple of times, wondering why the angel seemed to avoid his touch.

Enter: Abandonment Issues, stage left.

"Yesterday," Dean blurted into the silence awkwardly, "what you said- that- I mean you didn't just-". He sighed. "Fuck."

Cas turned and fixed sincere blue eyes on him. "I meant what I said to you, Dean. I did not mean to say it quite like _that_, but I meant it. With everything I have."

Dean sighed, reassured, and once again closed the gaping canyon between them until they were standing barely a foot apart. "Then why do you suddenly do... that?" Dean stroked a tentative finger across the back of one of Cas' hands, proving his point when Cas shrank away. The angel looked confused.

"I was under the impression... you weren't necessarily welcome to touch."

Dean chuckled. So that's what all this was about. Cas was being a gentleman. "I pretty much broke the fourth wall yesterday, didn't I?" Instead of saying a lot of things he could have said, Dean grabbed a hold of both Cas' hands and placed them lightly on his waist. The angel wasn't the only one to shiver at the touch. "This is okay," he murmured softly, telling Cas that this was something he was _allowed_ to do now. He didn't need Dean's permission any more, he already had it. Cas smiled almost dreamily as he moved his hands over the fabric of Dean's shirt, smoothing out some wrinkles before he absentmindedly tugged at the sleeves.

Looking up at Dean with shy adoration in his eyes he whispered a confession into the air between them. "I like this colour on you," he said, referring to the red shirt thrown on over the black tee. "It... suits you."

It wasn't a huge compliment and Dean Winchester wasn't someone to blush but this was Cas venturing into this..._thing_ with him and he was being so serious about it that Dean felt the tips of his ears redden with joy. He offered a sly grin, going for flirtatious. "Yeah?"

Cas nodded. "You're always... attractive. But this colour severely impedes my ability to focus. In a good way."

It was such a Cas thing to say, the hunter couldn't resist to pull him into a real embrace, craving the contact.

"I'll keep that in mind," he mumbled into Cas' shoulder, having his nose buried in the material there. Cas' breath was fanning against his chest, the heat of his exhales going through the fabric and spreading in his body. Dean felt alive with the touch of the angel's hands on his back and side, his entire being pulsing with nothing but _Cas, Cas, Cas_. And it was awesome.

"I thought you were confused," Cas remembered, obviously not quite trusting the hunter on this touchy-feely course. Dean only squeezed him more tightly to his chest.

"I _am_ confused," he admitted. "But I was an ass and a coward and I... I hurt you." He swallowed hard and pulled back, moving one hand up Cas' chest until it rested just over his racing heartbeat. In immediate response his own heart was about ready to fucking jump out of his ribcage. "Cas… I can't promise that I won't screw up again. I don't even know who I am since Cain…" He trailed off, hoping that the angel would hear what he was trying to express, foot-in-mouth and all.

"You're Dean Winchester," Cas said quietly. "The Righteous Man who I pulled from Perdition on an order and… fell for out of free will."

Dean blushed profusely- _again_- and hated himself for it. (Because he wasn't a friggin' high-schooler, damnit). To hide his embarrassment he allowed his head to drop forward, forehead connecting with the angel's. The touch was grounding, yet it felt like he was about to float off the floor. With a start he realized how easy it would be to close the small distance that was left between them. All it would take was a small tilt of his head. He wanted so badly to promise that he wouldn't freak out again, that he was alright with what they had so explosively talked about the previous day, but he couldn't. There was too much commotion and turmoil whirling through his mind. Cas knew him well enough to understand that but it didn't keep the angel from brushing their noses together. Skin ghosting over skin.

Dean trembled, realizing he had shut his eyes and that Cas' heart beat even less steadily at the touch. He exhaled shakily, mouth twitching but not entirely allowing a smile to emerge. Shit, he wanted more. He wanted everything, which was way too much. He wanted _Cas_ way too much and had no idea how to deal with that realisation after so many years of knowing the dork.

"What the fuck have you done to me?" It hadn't been supposed to be uttered aloud but Dean didn't really have his mind under control right now, since Cas was freaking nuzzling his face.

"I could ask you the very same question, Dean," the angel murmured, voice uneven. "And I believe you will lack an answer just as much as I do."

True. But the longer they stood there like that, the less Dean cared about the answer. He realized that he _wanted to kiss Cas_. He had thought about it on so many occasions before but it had always resulted in him putting as much distance between them as possible, reminded of his father's disapproval. Now he didn't feel like doing that. John wasn't there anymore. The thought hurt but at the same time took a painful weight off his shoulders. And if Dean was being perfectly honest, as much as he idolized his old man, he had never been there in the first place. It had always been him and Sam.

Until Cas.

You know what? Fucking _screw_ baby-steps! They'd had half a freakin' decade of those and it had gotten them nowhere.

Dean's eyes snapped open and he pulled away slowly, huskily whispering Cas' name to get his attention. Once the angel met his eyes, his decision was finalized. He licked his lips again, stomach flipping pleasantly at the way Cas' pupils expanded, swallowing the blue of his irises. The hunter let his hands creep up Cas' torso, fingers holding onto the lapels of his coat. (Dude, seriously? The bunker was, like, 77°F). The angel reacted on instinct, exploring Dean's sides below the red over-shirt with soft caresses. Their eyelids drooped and Dean leaned in again, definitely not aiming for the nose this time.

"Dean, we- we don't-"

"Shut up, Cas."

And before he could back-paddle he closed the remaining gap between them. Just a quick brush of lips, nothing special. Except that it was. It was so damn extraordinary that Dean almost sobbed with the emotion spreading in his chest. Cas' lips were rough and chapped, he noticed as their mouths rested on one another, motionless. He moved in again, pressing just that little bit harder, coaxing Cas into doing the same. Their mouths melted together smoothly (a match made in Heaven, Dean thought, finding himself pretty punny). Dean smiled into the kiss, couldn't help it when Cas gasped and tightened the grip he had on his sides. They stood there a while, sharing breaths in between exploring kisses while Dean had his angel trapped against the ancient shelf. One of the hunter's hands loosened its grasp of the coat and moved up along Cas' neck, then further up to caress a familiar stubbled cheek, until it came to rest in dark hair. It took only a little tilt and a well-timed, teasing lick at chapped lips and Cas gasped again, more breathless than before. Dean seized the opportunity to slide his tongue past the pink barrier of Cas' lips, barely holding back a groan when it met Cas'.

They broke apart a moment later, panting hard and eyes still shut. Dean would have been absolutely content with keeping it at this. Kissing was nice and kissing Cas was even better. Only he hadn't quite included the angel's reaction in the equation. It wasn't even a minute before the angel dove back for more, proving to Dean that he wasn't the helpless little virgin from pre-Apocalypse times. He bit the hunter's bottom lip demandingly, forcing his tongue inside his mouth and catching Dean off guard in the most thrilling way possible.

A gravitational force unlike anything Dean ever knew before pulled them together until they were standing impossibly close, limbs tangled, mouths practically devouring each other. They didn't hold back their little noises of pleasure anymore and the silence in the library was constantly interrupted by low moans and broken gasps. It was incredible and Dean felt his knees buckle with the effort of staying upright.

"Cas," Dean whined against the angel's lips, never quite stopping the kiss. It was distracting to have that magnificent mouth attached to his, though, and therefore took another couple of minutes of heated making-out until he could tear himself away. "We should move this party."

He felt the angel smile. "I hoped you would say that."

Cas' hands moved up to the hunter's shoulders, pushing at the red fabric until the shirt slid off. He carelessly tossed it at one of the chairs and Dean practically shook with excitement. They weren't… It wasn't about that. Cas stroked his hands up the hunter's newly bared arms, exceptionally careful when his fingers met with the raised flesh of the mark. For a second Dean was tempted to pull away but this was Cas, so he fought the urge. Cas needed to know every part of him… He mostly already did anyway. Still, this was important.

Dean kissed his angel again, slow and sweet, before he took a step back and blindly grabbed for Cas' hand so he could pull him into the direction of the bedrooms. He had no memory of the walk, the next thing he knew was laying on his back, shirtless, while Cas, also shirtless, greedily licked at his neck. It was new and awesome and he didn't want it to go much further than this but he was _happy_. Genuinely so.

The fact that he'd had a severe case of gay panic not too long ago almost made him laugh mid-kiss because suddenly the idea seemed incredibly dumb. Bisexual tendencies, Cas had called it, but Dean disagreed. He'd never felt attracted to a guy before Cas (erm, Dr Sexy _so_ didn't count) but that didn't mean what he… felt… for the angel wasn't absolutely one-hundred-percent sincere.

He stopped the kiss after all, needing to say something. Frankly, he had no clue _how_ but he wanted to try anyway. "Uh," he began eloquently. "I- Cas… You know that I- I think…"

He couldn't do it. Goddamnit, why was it so difficult to just _say_ things sometimes. He groaned and dropped his head back on the mattress in defeat. To his surprise Cas looked like all that nonsense hat been perfectly coherent. He smiled.

"Yes, I know," he said, in that gravelly voice of his and Dean just knew it wasn't even a lie. The angel knew exactly what he was going to say. He had said it himself the day before and started this whole… thing.

_Relationship_.

Whatever.

Since talking obviously didn't work out so well, Dean laughed his embarrassment away and grabbed Cas' chin, tugging him down so their mouths slotted together again. If _Cas_ didn't care that Dean was an emotionally constipated prick who couldn't talk about jackshit if his life depended on it… then who the fuck else was important? That's right, no one.

It had taken them way too many fucking years to figure it out and get to the point where they were now and Dean wondered how many other good things in life he had missed out on because of respect for and fear of his dad. Sam had always told him the same things Cas had said. That John was an ass. That John didn't care. That Dean was not a failure or a sinner or a disgrace.

But Sam's opinion was so different because he was just as much a hurt son as Dean was. There was sincerity in his words, but also rebellion and it didn't help that he put Dean on a pedestal just as much as Dean had their father.

The angel, on the other hand had a different view on things. He was far from unbiased but there were so many other factor's playing into his belief in Dean and who he was even though they were not family by blood, it was hard not to trust his faith.

Cas… Loved him.

And _he_ loved _Cas_.

(There you have it, damnit. Just because he couldn't say it out loud didn't mean he didn't feel it.)

…

On the nightstand, Dean's phone vibrated with an incoming call, completely ignored by the two men on the bed who were too absorbed in one another to notice the small buzzing sound. A moment later the little light on the top left corner of the device lit up with a text message.

_'__Killed the Loa, no more vics.  
>On my way home.<em>

_-S'_

It seemed like for once things were getting brighter.

Fucking finally.

* * *

><p><strong><em>F I N<em>**

* * *

><p><strong>AN**

Guys! That's basically it! I'm done with this. Thirty pages of whatever the hell this is. I might add an epilogue-ish kinda thing but I'm not sure.

If you enjoyed this, please let me know in a review. I'd really appreciate it.


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